So it goes. The news about the attack on route 103 travelled quicker than light, and before anyone got what the hell was going on, Mauville city and Oldale town became the frontline against the Human Republic, the crack between Ruber and Caerulus became an impassable fissure again, and the goddamn human planes were flying over the heads of Lavaridge town, scaring the children ****less. Father and son sat huddled together, babbling about everything under the sun, and just trying to comprehend what in the hell they were going to say to each other if they knew that they might never see each other again some day.

"Dad?" The youngest Ampharos, in his thirties, yet holding a vigourous physique of a young aroused whippersnapper in his prime, asked to the elderly ampharos sitting across from him. His father looked into his direction, sort of. He was exhibiting one of those thousand yard stares that, even when his eyes were pointed at him, weren't really looking at him. Sometimes, it seemed like he could see in four dimensions, and he was looking at how that spot appeared when the two tribes fought in the Great War, and then snaked towards the decades of rebuilding, to a house built on the ashes of the old one, watching new life be formed, himself and his wife celebrating the birth of their first child, Ruby; second child, Galeno, and third child, Cyprus. and then finally in the present state of all space, there was Galeno, now a grown up Ampharos, whose black neck bands were chipping off like old paint. And the whole line was a continuum, kind of like the conventional spatial dimensions of height, width, and depth. He didn't really blink, just wheezed in and out and sat in his oakwood chair with his arms over his lap. Today was the old fart's 70th birthday. He finally gave a response in the present.

"Yes?"
"Can you tell me a story about the Great War?"
"Chaos."
"Maybe in more than one word?"

"I am sorry," the elderly ampharos turned his face to the side, to stare out of the window of the little stone and timber home. Galeno scooted over to him. He knelt on the floor and grasped his father's arm with both of his paws. "Dad, I just want to know what I am up against. What can you tell me about the Great War?" The old one looked back at his son again and spoke: "You look like you're going to propose to me. Come on, stand up." Galeno's face flushed and he averted his eyes in shame, but obeying his father's wish while the old one cleared his throat and he blankly stared at the ceiling, as though that was where he cached his stories.

"The boys and I were over in Verdanturf, sent as reinforcements just before the assault by the Ruber tribe. We manned the ramparts and just waited for them to come flooding in, heh, literally. The combined efforts of hundreds of water pokémon causing the most awe-inspiring flood with all of their water spouting attacks. The immense waves crashed against the blockade and leaked into the town. Then the fishies came swimming in, drowning the ones that weren't fishies. Didn't really matter who: commoners, soldiers. They were given orders to destroy. Only thing they didn't know -- hehe -- water conducts electricity. And then all the little fishies became fried little fishies. Yes, we fought back. And the more we killed, the lower the water got. And then they won."

"They?"
"Yes, they. Not Ruber, of course, but not really Caerulus either. Adamantium won, really, and Aecor felt a little patronised. War isn't all that different from playing chess. People are only willing to make a move when they've got plenty of pawns, and of course the king, he just stays back. He is supposed to stay back, because when he dies, no matter how many people are willing to die for the white pieces, the game dictates they lose when the black pieces capture that one useless figurehead. It's simple, really: when the rich wage war, the poor die."
"What happens when a pawn initiates a war?"
"Excuse me?"
"Like right now. What happens when a pawn initiates a war?" Galeno spoke up with a louder voice. His father's hearing had become a bit dull over the years.

The old man slouched in his chair and he rested his chin on his paw. He sat quietly: in fact, the only noises that came out of him for the moment were a few snorts, grumbles, wheezes, and other excretions of the slime in his throat. "Drastic changes happen, beyond the orchestration of the king."

Galeno stood up. His time was running out, and he still needed to report in over at the town's square. "Dad, I need to go. Happy birthday again." Without thinking, he leapt over to his father and embraced the frail man. "Oh, dear," the man sighed. He draped his arms around his son. "Just don't hold the illusion that there is any--" "I know dad, just...just shut up and hug me." He wanted it to last for a few more seconds, but he really had to leave. There was a meeting over in the centre of Lavaridge, and Galeno was eagre to attend it.

__________________

RP's I am in:
Pokemon: Journeys Through Novia - Glyn Schaffer

"And they tell me there are people who are normal, but I don't know what they look like because I've never met one. And neither have you, so why not compare yourself to real people instead?"
"Three lives of a gamer: the first'll be your best, because you can always restart if it isn't; the second pales in comparison, and the game will cheat you out; but the third one's going to be better, because it gets do or die from then."